


Card Captor Sam(antha)

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Humor, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam fucking hates the Trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Card Captor Sam(antha)

**Author's Note:**

> Sam and Dean. As Cardcaptors. This COULD be considered spoilers for 5x08. Written in response to a [](http://midnightwriting.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**midnightwriting**](http://midnightwriting.dreamwidth.org/) challenge.]

Sam fucking hates the Trickster. He is seriously, seriously getting sick of this bullshit, but even if he hadn't been, this is an entirely different kind of weird. And wrong. _Especially_ wrong.

"We're cartoons," he says, and he can feel his eyes stretching so big that they should have, in all logical and reasonable worlds, exploded in a macabre shower of aqueous and vitreous humor, blood, and tiny pieces of retina and nervous tissue. Instead, his face defies biology and physics and social convention.

Dean, who is also a fucking cartoon, looks down at himself and a bunch of weird characters, like chinese or something, appear by his head as he shrinks down to like, knee-height. He starts to swear as his head explodes into a large, water-melon sized caricature of himself. His eyebrows are suddenly Very Angry. "What the fuck am I wearing?" Dean demands, and a large, weird blue thing appeared beside his head.

As Sam understands it, this means that Dean is embarrassed. He tries to stay calm. "We're in a Japanese Anime, Dean-kun." He says.

Dean turns to him and glares so fiercely that an actual electrical storm builds up behind him. He breathes fire when he snarls, and Sam jumps out of the way and tries again, only to be interrupted. "We're in a fucking _what_?" Dean yells.

"Calm down, Jesus," Sam says, and then Dean gestures at himself.

"What am I wearing?" He practically screams, and it's hard to look at him when he's jumping from full-grown to knee-height and his head is disproportionate half the time.

"It can't be any worse than what _I'm_ wearing," Sam says soothingly, and then Dean stops moving and stares at him. Sam is wearing pink, and it is loose and flowy and covered in bows. He magically sparkles as he stands there. It's the ugliest, gayest thing that Sam has ever worn, and he once dressed in drag and sang at a burlesque bar when he and Dean were investigating a haunting in Phoenix.

Okay, Dean's outfit is a thousand times worse. Dean is wearing an overly complex outfit that may be attached with bows, and has far too many ribbons and decorative thingers to be practical (or necessary). He has _wings_. He's holding a giant sword that ought to be too large for him to lift, but he hefts it as if it's made of paper. (It might, for all Sam knows, be made of paper.) His hair is defying gravity on a level that might be angelic, and his cheekbones have been so harshly outlined and his lips so clearly pinked that even though he's a fucking cartoon and a guy and Sam's brother, it's still kind of a turn-on.

"You were saying, Sammy?" Dean says in a voice that is almost a growl. His face is doing the Angry Eyebrows thing again.

And then they're attacked.

Sam ducks and rolls, trying to fight back instinctively, and apparently that's what his character is supposed to do because it's almost frighteningly easy. Dean's instincts have kicked in the same way, except he's got a great big honking sword instead of Sam's stupid girly magic wand or whatever,so at least he's more effective.

"Fuck," Dean yells, and he tries to attack the monster. It rears back, does something complicated, and swings back around, apparently hurt but not wounded. "Do something, Sam!" He yells.

"Like what?" Sam yells back, standing there in his sparkly pants holding his fucking fairy princess wand and hating the fucking trickster.

Castiel appears, only he's not Jimmy Novak, he's a stuffed bear with wings and a halo. Actually, he might be squirrel or some shit, it's hard to tell when the world around them doesn't make any more sense than Dean before he gets his morning coffee. "Dean!" Cas yells, and he looks as if he's struggling against something. His stumpy, fluffy wings beat so hard that they blur, and Sam tries not to find that disturbingly cute.

"Help me, Sam!" Dean says, doing a kick-ass slow motion back flip over the monster, landing on his feet, and somehow charging back at it for five full seconds even though he was only two feet away. Time, Sam thinks, is relative, but this is too fucking much.

"Use the wand," Cas tells Sam, before an invisible force smashes him into the ground so hard he leaves a crater.

Sam doesn't fucking know magic, but he raises the wand and then words come to him, so he says them and it doesn't make any fucking sense, because he doesn't know Japanese or whatever language he's speaking.

And then the monster stops moving, freezes, and a whirlwind forms around them, somehow leaving Sam and Dean untouched but sucking up the monster they'd been fighting, compressing it until it's a tiny point of light directly in front of Sam's princess wand. The light coalesces, and then it's a shimmering, magical playing card, floating gently to the ground.

Dean sits down, hard. "I hate you, Sammy," he says.

"Where did Castiel-sama go?" Sam asked. "I think there's something wrong, Dean."

Dean glared at him. "You know what?" he said, stomping over and picking up the playing card. "I would give anything to be on the road with Bobby-senzei instead of you, Sammy." 

The picture on the playing card is a frolicking dragon. Underneath the picture in flowing, flowery script is the word 'Fiery'.

"Look," Sam said, patiently, "Dean-kun---"

And then they're standing in a foyer, dressed in black, apparently mourning the death of somebody's father/uncle/brother-in-law/second-cousin/identical twin.

"I hate soap operas," Dean says, but he's already perking up when he realizes that every single chick in the room is smoking hot. "Think they've got anything to eat in this place?"

Sam fucking hates the Trickster.

-


End file.
